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Adventuring parties were not an uncommon thing– not even close. In the largest cities, one couldn’t walk ten paces without encountering at least two adventuring parties.
But in the eastern forests, where civilization was scarce, they were rare. Most adventurers preferred the more populated northern plains, mainly because more villages were willing to pay for a group of adventurers to deal with a dungeon, wild monster, or group of bandits.
Kaede knew that finding an adventuring party out here was uncommon. Even more so to find one investigating the mouth of what was very clearly a dungeon.
Dungeons were the terror of the eastern forests, growing to impossible size, power, and majesty, creating dungeon monsters that could crush even the strongest adventuring party if they were unprepared. Without abundant adventurers defeating them while they were weak, many dungeons had swelled to horrifying strengths fit for legends.
Even when aboveground dungeons were a threat. The dungeon monsters that rose to the surface were often the stronger ones, and the rare dungeons that were built aboveground were just as dangerous, if not more dangerous than the ones below. Belowground, monsters could only come from so many directions. Aboveground, and they could come from anywhere.
The party looked somewhat prepared, although perhaps slightly inexperienced, with a decent, balanced makeup of two knights, one cleric, one mage, and one ranger. If they were lucky, this dungeon could be young, in which case they might be able to overcome it, albeit with some difficulty. If they were unlucky, and it was older than that, then they would become the dungeon’s newest chew toys without someone to help them.
. . . Kaede had been in a few dungeons before. . .
But that meant nothing. No two dungeons had the same layout, traps, monsters, or dangers. What could save you in one could get you killed in another. There was no guarantee that she could give them any help at all. Not to mention that there was a good chance that they would hate her just upon seeing that she was a dark elf.
But in becoming a druid, she had dedicated her existence to the idea that all life was sacred and worth protecting. To just let them potentially get themselves killed would be worse than killing them herself.
. . .
Well. . . nothing said that they had to know that someone was helping them.
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The interior of the dungeon was not as majestic as Kaede had seen in some mature dungeons, indicating it was somewhere in the late younger age range. It was comprised of stone tunnels carved between the rooms, likely by the first floor’s monsters– gigantic insects.
As it turned out, this party was not as inexperienced as Kaede feared.
They managed to deal with most threats easily, with the two knights taking defensive positioning in front of the rest of the party, while the ranger and mage cast spells and arrows at the monsters, and the cleric healed any injuries. Kaede only had to cast a sleeping spell on a single monster– an enormous beetle with mandibles sharper than daggers– luckily stopping it from gruesomely murdering the cleric.
It was clear now that the dungeon was not particularly old, so it was probable that there were only a handful of complete floors with fairly simple monsters. Treasure– which dungeons seemed to produce naturally through a process unknown to any living creature– would likely be fairly simple as well, perhaps with a few enchanted items mixed in depending on the dungeon’s exact age.
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The first floor might not be an indicator of the dungeon’s true power, but Kaede felt like this dungeon would not be a particularly difficult challenge.
Conan was a great help, even in the cramped rooms. His stealth ability mixed well with the dark, and he was not as impeded by the tunnels as she initially expected given his great size. The rabbit– still trying and failing to chew through the cage– wasn’t all that helpful, but ended up giving her several warnings by way of very un-rabbit-like hisses toward monsters that came a little too close for comfort.
Approximately halfway to the end of the floor, as indicated by the increasing difficulty of the rooms, the party decided that they would head back. Not a bad idea, if you asked Kaede (although they did not, because they did not know she was there), given that they lacked the proper supplies necessary to move onwards. It was better to retreat than risk overextending.
Kaede let out a breath as the party climbed out. What a day.
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It had been so long.
When Dux had felt his body die for the first time, he was not afraid. He knew he could still slip away.
When Dux had felt his body die again, killed by the dying adventurer in the elf village after the fight ended with both sides bleeding out on the floor, he had been afraid. The second death was a mystery. Perhaps Ome, the power outside all, would allow his soul to be reborn.
Then Dux had lived a third time—Awoken in a skaven camp in the dwarven mountains by a pair of skaven mages. Necromancers. The darkest god had gifted Dux a third chance, and Dux refused to allow such a thing to be wasted.
The ambush, all things considered, had gone well. The dwarf's ability to disintegrate the undead skaven– including both Rur and Ves, who had been brought back alongside Dux– had been a surprise, and Dux mourned losing his two companions again, for they lacked even a body left to reanimate now.
The ever-burning skaven who had fled the scene alongside him– male, smaller than average and at least a head shorter than Dux– was still cackling and hissing with painful laughter as even the last pieces of their flesh burned to ash. Their second life was already fading quickly, and soon they would be naught but a charred skeleton in the mountains, left to be picked away by animals, as or used as the finder wished, as according with skaven tradition.
Skaven had no qualm with the dead. Once the second life is gone, the body is alone and to be used. Fertilizer, food, fashion, or weapon, the dead were fair game. The necromancers had done nothing wrong in skaven culture. Using a skaven corpse in a weapon was an act most honorable, and many would use such weapons to slay the foes who had felled the skaven whose body was used.
Unfortunately however, due to losing the majority of the force sent to silence the dwarf and beastkin, it was likely that the raiding party would have to disband, and either move northward into the plains to try to assemble a greater force again, or southward towards the dwarven capital in an attempt to break in despite their fewer numbers.
The burning skaven was crumbling now. Their legs had collapsed, the last dredges of their second life melting in the flame. Their laughs had quieted into whimpers and grunts of pain, mixed with short bursts of hysterical half-laughter as they died for good.
There would likely not be enough of them left to reanimate. Half of their skeleton was ash, and the attack by the golden being had not left the rest unscathed, leaving huge gashes of molten bone and burnt muscle.
Frankly, the two foes being so challenging had been a surprise. A healer and a rouge being so effective against such a large attacking force? It was only when the golden foe had appeared that the two were distracted enough for Dux to attack the dwarven healer who had destroyed so much of the raiding party.
The necromancers had gotten a little ahead of themselves, sending undead to challenge a healer when they knew about Berezi’s principle– but what mage could resist trying out a new spell or whatnot at the first opportunity? Every mage knows that caution comes third in magic!
The two necromancers had died in the fight, and Dux had grabbed the notebook they had used. He could not let such precious knowledge be lost. His thoughts raced with the potential they held even as they were now. With experimentation, with progression, the heights of power they could reach were only previously found in dreams. Perhaps he could one day bring back even the skaven who had been turned to dust by the dwarf.
The burning skaven let out a final coughing laugh and went silent. Only the soft crackles of the dying fire lit on their corpse remained.
After a moment, Dux grasped their skull, rough with charred blood and flesh, and pulled it from the body with a wet crunch. Most of the skull had been exposed, with only the last patches of burnt hair scattered across the back of it.
It would be a while until one could bring back corpses with so much damage, and Dux refused to neglect a good bowl.
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